The Chocolate Girl
by Satine89
Summary: A chocolateselling teen catches the eye of little Stewie, and in a misguided action, he follows her home, bringing Amber Alerts, frantic mothers, and Quagmire after Stewie and the teen! T for language and... Quagmire.
1. Chapter 1

**The Chocolate Girl**

**Part One**

If you were ever a freshman in high school – or if you were ever in band - you know that there are always some form of fundraiser going on. Usually, freshmen are the only ones who put in work on such fundraisers while the seniors ride on their underclassmen, using them to their advantage.

Not in this band class. Everyone pulled their own weight around, and everyone was required to sell at least two boxes of chocolate this year – lest that person receive about five demerits.

So the freshman piano virtuoso girl was degraded to selling chocolate. Normally, she wouldn't care, but she had just moved to the neighborhood about a year ago, in eighth grade, and she still couldn't figure out where her house was in relation to the freeway.

Dragging a cart full of chocolate down the street, the raven-haired girl's goal was to sell her required boxes today.

At the end of the day, her goal would be much different and have nothing to do with chocolate.

-

Life in the Griffin household was no different that usual today. Meg, on a whim, decided that today was mall raiding day and split; Chris was with his friends, attempting to write some form of music that didn't send the cat into convulsions; Lois was tuning the piano; Stewie was trying to fix his mind reading device, which could only translate thoughts into Aramaic; Peter was watching "My Big Fat Greek Life" and God only knows why; and Brian the dog was doing what he always did: drinking a martini.

The doorbell rang. All autonomous action ceased, for someone actually wanted to see the Griffins for some reason. Peter turned off the TV, Stewie hid the mind reading device (in case the uninvited stranger thought to look inside), and Lois emerged from the pit underneath the piano. Brian did nothing, because if a dog was seen answering the door, the world would be turned upside-down and Brian's picture would be plastered all over the Internet.

Lois answered the door to find a tall teenager with short black hair, blue dusted eyelids, and a giant cart trailing behind her.

"Hello," Lois greeted the girl in her usual squeaky voice. "How can I help you?"

"I'm selling chocolate for my band fundraiser," the teenager said in what could only be called mock enthusiasm. "As you probably know, band classes promote the cultured enjoyment of music, and students in band take –"

"Chocolate!" Peter yelled as he came to the door with his wallet in his hand. He looked at the girl's cart. "How much for that entire cart?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh, well, um, it's about twenty dollars a box, and I have ten boxes, so it would be about $200, sir…"

"Done!" Peter yelled, handing over ten twenty-dollar bills to the girl. The teenager was unloading the cart and handing cases of chocolate over to Peter when Stewie took notice of the three-ring circus going on by the front door.

"What are those rash imbeciles doing yelling at such an ungodly volume?" Stewie murmured vindictively. "As if I needed another reason to fuel my own matricidal tendencies… damn these moronic sociopaths known as parents…"

Stewie toddled over to the door in even steps; managing to catch a glimpse of the many cases of chocolate that Peter was attempting to stack near the front door.

"So those are the cause of this demented fervor…" Stewie muttered as he turned his head to the doorframe. His mother's leg was blocking the view of the visitor. After dispelling some of his normal rage, Stewie, pretending to be the innocent little boy, tugged on Lois' pants. Lois, as if psychic, was already reaching to pick him up. When the domineering baby was lifted to his mother's eye level, he gasped.

There was a slender, tall, and black-haired Bohemian beauty standing on his doorstep. She wore a tee shirt that promoted Vanessa Carlton in tan glory and faded cutoff shorts that went a bit higher than the dress code would have wished them to be. Her eyes were surrounded by soft blue eye shadow and dangling from her ears were mushroom-shaped charms (supporting the Mario Brothers). She looked a bit surprised by Peter's voracious chocolate buying, but she seemed more than satisfied with the cool $200 lying in her delicate, outstretched palm.

The cases had finally been packed away by the front door, something Stewie was completely unaware of. He was actually daydreaming – something that rarely happened to the genius baby. Meanwhile, while Stewie was in la-la land, the teen thanked Lois and Peter for supporting band, and Peter thanked the girl for the chocolate, and the door closed.

Stewie blinked as Lois set him down beside Brian on the living room carpet, in front of the couch broadcasting the Nia Vardalos flop TV show.

"Where am I?" Stewie asked stupidly. "Where is _she_?"

"You're in your house, dumbass." Brian sipped the martini. "Where is who?"

"That girl!" Stewie repeated, as if Brian was dumb. "The raven-haired goddess, the only one who could truly be called beautiful in this inadequate commune of Earth, the –"

Brian slapped Stewie very hard before taking another sip of his near-empty martini. "Shut the hell up, please."

Stewie sat up. "You think you're so great… damned dog! One day, when I rule the world, you will be shoved through a wood chipper while I film the gory bloodshed for my own perverse enjoyment!"

Brian raised an eyebrow. "**If **you rule the world. We live in Seth McFarlane's creative consciousness simply to entertain the millions of viewers around America that have grown to know and love the Griffins for their own ways… and if you rule the world, ratings might plummet."

"What the hell kind of drug are you on, dog?" Stewie asked in a crazed tone. "Who is this McFarlane you speak of? And what the hell do ratings have to do with this?"

Brian sighed before draining his drink. "Never mind, stupid little baby. Now, about this raven-haired girl…"

Stewie knew that Brian was toying with him, as he always did, because only he could get away with it (he was a dog, for God's sake. Who'd believe you if you said a DOG forced you to murder your family?). But at the mention of this chocolate seller, Stewie collapsed into his own murky fantasies again. Brian poked Stewie repeatedly as the infant lay on the floor, not paying any attention to the world around him.

Brian went to take a sip of his drink before realizing there was nothing in it. "Crap… I need more booze."

Brian left Stewie on the floor to be found by Lois about five seconds later. Lois cocked her head, for Stewie was splayed on the floor and was in the center of the living room for no reason at all.

"Stewie… Stewie…"

Stewie was still not paying much attention. The noxious dictator could wait for later. At the moment, Stewie knew he had to see that chocolate girl again, just one more time.

-

"Ah the park," Stewie muttered. "I hate this place."

Stewie had to admit, if you wanted a child army, the best place to recruit some unsuspecting patriotic suckers was the park. Unfortunately, the only thing that interested Stewie was the swing set, yet, try as he might, he could never reach the lip of the plastic basket swing. But, in an effort to try and assimilate into the surroundings without Lois thinking something was wrong (thus making her less likely to be caught unawares if Stewie happened to find a sharp rock somewhere), he began to mold sand into some sort of hill.

Stewie, for a second, looked longingly over to the swing set, wishing he were slightly taller and/or had a mother he actually liked… like that chocolate girl. Stewie saw that all the swings were full before turning back to his mound of sand. He, after a few seconds, did a double take.

The chocolate girl was swinging on the swings. She wasn't in a basket; she was on that bendable plastic strip kind. She was going awfully high in the air, but seemed never to lose her equilibrium or her grip on the swing's chains. Today she wore a black tank top that clung loosely to her stomach and tan Dickies that had clothespins attached at the edges.

Stewie stared at the girl, blankly warping the sand beneath his small fingers. It sifted between his fingers, helpless as the infant was to this teenager.

She was there, in his general vicinity… the one girl that he could love as an equal… or perhaps a mother.

The girl jumped off her swing rather unceremoniously, landing in a pile of leaves. Someone sitting behind a tree yelled at her to hurry up, and the girl turned red and followed a brunette that must have been her mother. Stewie, blindsided by whatever it was that made him attracted to such an unremarkable girl, toddled after them, leaving his pile of sand to its own devices.

-

"Cassandra!"

_She thinks she can rule me, does she? _Cassie thought with a hint of disgust tingeing her brain.

"Have you gone on your chocolate rounds today?" Cassie's mom, a brunette prep named Samantha, asked hotly. Her white capris clung to her thighs and her lime-green sleeveless turtleneck looked remarkably good on a forty-year-old body. Of course, Samantha worked as a supermodel in her youth and retired after marrying three times and divorcing four. (Don't ask.)

Cassie smirked, her red lips rising a bit higher than usual. "This family bought all the cases I had of the stuff. My rounds are over."

Samantha nodded. "Fine then. Your sister is at dance, so you have a half-hour to yourself. Don't mess with your sister's hamster, hear me?"

"Yeah, mom."

Cassandra closed the door to her room. The dank and cluttered room would have looked like an absolute dump to anyone else, but to Cassie it was home. She rooted through a disorderly CD rack to find her karaoke CD to sing along with, popping it into a dust-covered CD player.

Cassie blew the dust off of the CD player before pressing the play button and letting the soft French words roll off of her tongue playfully and gracefully, surrounding her body and giving her room an inviting glow.

That was, before her mom screamed.

Cassie forcefully pressed the pause button on her disc player. "What now, mom!"

Her mom said nothing. Cassie ran out of her room, into the living room, to her mother's side. Standing before the two was a standing baby.

"Um… mom… is this one of your ex's children?" Cassie asked unsympathetically.

Samantha shot her daughter a venomous look before turning back to the baby. "Do you think that he can talk?"

"How do you know it's a he?" Cassie screeched. "It has about seven hairs on its head!"

"A baby girl would be wearing pink, not red!" Samantha shot back.

"I wore red when I was a kid!" Cassie yelled.

"Red and yellow and blue?"

"And black, baby, back in black."

"Cassandra Yvonne…"

The baby's head seemed to move with the conversation. Cassandra noticed this and stopped arguing with her mother long enough to pick up the baby. It seemed to smile.

"Whose are you?" Cassandra asked the little baby with the football-shaped head and red overalls.

Samantha sighed. "Babies don't normally talk, dear."  
Cassie ignored her mother and instead gently moved the baby back and forth in the air.

"How'd it get in the house, though?" Cassie wondered aloud.

"It must have come in after us," Samantha sighed. "We did leave the door open for quite some time."

Cassie kept moving the baby back and forth before singing again. _"Somewhere along the beach is a place I want to see… far away from the city lights in a small personal sea… hold my hand tenderly as I watch the sky turn blue… you will always be my shepherd, for it is known that I love you…"_

The baby was slightly red in the face, so Cassie stopped moving it back and forth. "Did you not like the singing…?"

A thought struck Cassie "We should get you home…!"

Samantha stood up forcibly. "Of course we should get him home! We need to call the Missing Persons Hotline!"

Samantha reached for her cell phone and began to dial as Cassie placed the baby on the ground to turn on the TV.

Instantly a barrage of drug commercials battered the disaffected teenager, telling her that her erectile dysfunction and her arthritis could be cured with a simple visit to her doctor and a prescription.

"I hate commercials," Cassie frowned. "It's like people are trying to get dependent on drugs…" Cassie turned to the mildly interested toddler sitting beside her, realizing what she had said in the presence of the child. "Just forget I said anything, little guy… I wish that you COULD talk, but you don't look over eight months old… babies don't talk at eight months…"

From the other room, Cassie heard Samantha on the phone with the Missing Persons Hotline.

"Yes, an infant… about seven or eight months old, with a football shaped head," Samantha explained. "Its eyes are black, just like the rest of us, you fool…! I believe it's a boy, but this baby is disturbingly genderless… No I haven't changed his diaper! It isn't my baby! It followed me into my house! …I am not crazy! What -? Don't hang up, you yellow-bellied -!"

Samantha pressed the clear button on her phone, ending the call.

"They didn't believe you, did they?" Cassie murmured in shock.

"No," Samantha huffed. "Bureaucratic idiots…"

Cassie turned to the baby, who was smiling as if he had no idea how much trouble he could cause. Either that, or the baby was staring at her chest. Cassie knew that the baby was just being oblivious, like most babies.

"I hope it doesn't start to cry," Samantha pondered. "What'll we do?"

"I hope it doesn't get hungry," Cassie added. "_That _is something that we can't do anything about…"

Cassie and Samantha stared at the tot, fearing the worst: that it had been abandoned, and it followed the first humans it could find.

"Do you think that maybe… maybe he was abandoned?" Samantha thought aloud. "Or that it ran away?"

"Babies don't run away," Samantha retorted. "They'd crawl away, but a mother wouldn't be stupid enough to leave her son alone in a street."

"Right."

The TV stopped milking the recent prescription drug boom long enough to start the afternoon news with some high-and-mighty studio executive filling in for the usual calm and somewhat appealing anchorman.

"We at Channel 217 news interrupt the regularly scheduled advertising and the soap opera 'All My Cousins' to bring you this special Amber Alert bulletin… yes, a child has gone missing and is presumed kidnapped… his name is Stewie Griffin, and he was last seen at the community park…"

Samantha looked from the picture of the baby on the screen to the baby sitting in her living room. She turned back to the TV.

"Oh… my… God!" Samantha shrieked. "It's him! That kid is Stewie Griffin!"

Amidst mother and daughter shrieking in fear and horror, Samantha's other daughter, Jean, walked into the house and took a seat on the couch, seemingly ignoring her sister and mother. Jean had reddish-brown hair, done into a tight ponytail, and was wearing a body clinging black tank top that showed off… um, well, actually, this girl had nothing. Of course, she was only eleven… the problem was, she thought she was in high school and acted like a spoiled brat.

Jean dangled her feet off the couch, watching the Amber Alert thing for a few seconds, which was being watched intently by Cassie and Samantha.

"Stewie is about thirty pounds… he has black eyes… he has very little hair. If you have any information, or if you have seen him, call 313 – 555 - "

The channel switched to The Fairly Oddparents, where a deranged, bespectacled teacher gave the pink-hatted kid an F.

Cassie and Samantha turned to the couch and saw Jean.

"Jean!" Cassie yelled, lunging at her sister before Samantha yanked the back of her tank top.

"Hold on," Samantha frowned, turning her sights to Jean. Jean winced, waiting for her sentence.

Samantha yanked the remote away from Jean and switched the TV back to the news. However, they'd moved on to a crazy who had murdered his family with a printer cartridge that was finally put into custody.

"No!" Samantha yelled. "We needed that number!"

Cassie turned to the baby, who was staring intently at the footage of the printer cartridge killer. Was he intrigued, or was he just being like all babies, and just watching the television?

Jean sighed. "Why'd you need that number?"

Cassie stepped away, revealing the baby to Jean. Jean's eyes widened.

"Is that…?"

"Yep," Cassie interrupted. "The baby wandered into our house… we thought it might have been abandoned, but it looks like it got lost and followed us home."

Jean thought for a second before snapping her fingers. "Why don't you look up Griffin in the phone book? I'm sure you'd get the number through that!"

Samantha hugged her daughter. "That's a great idea! You're so smart, Jean!"

Cassie looked at her mom and sibling, who were lugging the phone book out from the kitchen cabinet. She then turned to Stewie, kneeling down to his level.

"There has to be a reason that you came here, though," Cassie stated in a rather blunt fashion. "I think I've seen you before… perhaps you're an angel or something…"

Jean screamed. Cassie cringed.

"What now!" Cassie yelled at her sister.

Jean slumped her head on the kitchen counter. "There are about seven Griffins in the city!"

Cassie sighed. "This couldn't get any worse…!"  
"Can't the baby talk?" Jean asked.

"It's only eight months old!" Cassie yelled. "Do you honestly think that he can just up and tell us his address? You're crazy!"

"Actually, if I may say so, I can indeed tell you my address, but I don't really want to return to the totalitarianism that my mother instills upon my household."

Cassie, Samantha, and Jean turned to the baby. He stood erect, frowning.

"Why are you staring at me with such anxious faces?" Stewie asked.

Cassie breathed heavily, Jean bit her lip in fear, and Samantha dropped the phone book on her foot.

"Oh… Lord," Cassie breathed before lapsing into a clean faint.

A/N: All right, just so I don't get flamed about this, I don't know the name of the town that the Griffins live in. At one point I knew it, but I can't think of it off the top of my head and I didn't think that it was a vital detail to the story… If you know it (which you probably do), please tell me so I can remedy this problem.

A/N 2: If it isn't painfully obvious, I'll tell you that I haven't seen very many episodes of Family Guy, but I really do like the show. It's just that, by 12:00 midnight, I've turned in for the night and don't feel like watching Adult Swim. So I wait… every Sunday at nine… for Family Guy episodes! I'm sorry if I screwed up anything… (Whenever I write a fiction for a section I've never dabbled in before, I always end up groveling to the readers. I have to stop that.)

A/N 3: There will only be about two chapters to this, because I didn't want to make this the longest one-shot ever.

DISCLAIMER: Oh, I don't own Family Guy. Obviously… (sigh) Boy, Seth McFarlane is so cool…


	2. Part Two

The Chocolate Girl 

**Part Two**

"A homicidal toddler bent on world domination."

Cassie cradled her head in her hands, avoiding Stewie's nonchalant gaze. "This… sucks…"

Stewie had tried to explain his life's story to Cassie, Samantha, and Jean, but all that did was make Samantha more frantic, Jean care even less about the situation, and Cassie bang her head against the wall repeatedly, trying to think of a way to get him back home.

"…Sucks?" Stewie repeated.

"Yes, sucks," Cassie snapped tartly. "You're too young to get home on your own…"

"Are you underestimating me? I got here on my own, didn't I?"

"Yes, but the park is only about a half-mile from here," Cassie replied. "Your house could be anywhere."

"Why don't you just get in the car and drive around, then?"

"My mom's car is in the shop, and I can't drive!"

"You can't drive?" Stewie repeated. "But aren't you about fifteen…?"

Jean laughed from her perch on the couch. Cassie thought it was because The Fairly Oddparents was funnier than usual, but it was at Stewie's question.

"Remember the time when you were driving that Power Wheels car at our cousin's house?" Jean cackled.

Stewie turned to Cassie. "You could fit inside a Power Wheels car?"

"I got Dared to do it," Cassie frowned sourly. She apparently didn't want to relive the memory.

"That's not my point," Stewie groaned. "My point is, with breasts like that, wouldn't it be impossible to move the steering wheel?"

Cassie blinked and flushed red. "What the hell did you just say?"

"It's a simple matter of body composition," Stewie explained. "The car is designed so that a little kid's head will reach above the dash… of course, in your case –"

Samantha came barreling in and picked up Stewie in a quick maneuver. "I think I've found your home!"

"Good!" Cassie yelled, jumping up off the ground. "We won't have to deal with him anymore…!"

Samantha sighed, picking up her cell phone. "It appears that they live on 31 Spooner Street…"

"That's about six miles from here," Jean complained. "I'm not walking six miles… Make Cassie do it."

"What?" Cassie protested in confusion.

"Aren't you always saying, Mom," Jean continued, "that Cassie doesn't get enough exercise?"

Samantha put Stewie on the kitchen counter. "That's an excellent idea… Cassandra, you should take Stewie home."

"What?" Cassie repeated, still confused.

Stewie sighed. "You're taking me home, bitch!"

"Oh…" Cassie blinked. "Hey, wait -!"  
Samantha had already put Stewie in Cassie's arms and was pushing her out the door. Jean giggled maniacally before Cassie had finally cascaded off of the porch with an embarrassing thud.

From the doorway, Jean heard a loud "Damn you all and such!"

-

"So… if it's six miles to your house, and I walk a mile in approximately thirteen minutes, it will take us about… let's see, six times three, carry the one…"

Cassie looked up to the sky, multiplying in her head. Stewie raised an eyebrow.

"Seventy-eight minutes?" Stewie offered drolly.

"Yes," Cassie responded. "Seventy-eight minutes… God, I'm already tired…"

Stewie frowned. Cassie may have been very beautiful, but she really couldn't hold a candle to his genius. However, he still found himself attracted to the raven-haired teenager.

"What if you ran?" Stewie asked.

"It would take only an hour, but I can't run for an hour straight," Cassie replied. "I'd faint before we got to your house…"

"Well, anything that delays my return to the hierarchy of my retarded mother and the rest of her equally dunderheaded family…" Stewie rattled off dryly. Cassie looked forward before she shook her head and turned to Stewie.

"What do you have against your mother, anyway?" Cassie asked.

Stewie blinked. "Well… she treats me like I'm an infant."

"You are an infant."

"I mean…" Stewie rolled his eyes. "I am far smarter than she will ever be, yet she refuses to recognize that simple fact. She treats me like an incoherent drunk."

"Ah," Cassie reacted. "I suppose I see your point… then again, you are a homicidal whack job bent on world domination… how does she NOT notice that?"

"Was I supposed to answer that?"

"Rhetorical question."

Cassie and Stewie walked along, no longer in the same enmity that surrounded them back at the house (after the Power Wheels comment), but rather, for the first time that day, slightly relieved that there was still seventy-five minutes left of the walk.

"Cassandra?"

"Yes?" Cassie answered.

"Sorry about the Power Wheels thing…"

Cassie stuck her tongue out. "That was my sister's fault… she seems to think that she's better than me in so many ways."

"I know exactly how you -… Cassie?"

Cassie had walked into the street, hiding behind an older car.

"What the hell -?"

"My mom told me about that guy," Cassie began in a whisper tone. "He's one of my mom's exes… she told me never to go near him…"

"That guy?" Stewie asked before a thought dawned on him. "Oh God don't tell me…"

Stewie peeked out over the car and gasped, jumping down in a hurry.

"Jesus, mother of Mary and Joseph!" Stewie muttered under his breath. "THAT dated your mom?"

"So you know him?" Cassie asked.

"Know him? Hah!" Stewie narrowed his eyes. "He babysat me once… after telling us all about Megan's Law…"

Cassie turned pallid, fearing for her sanity. "Okay… if I hold you the way I'm holding you now, I can sneak out from behind this car and pass him unnoticed…"

"Who the hell are you and what -? Oh, he-llo…"

"Too late, Cassandra," Stewie grunted. Cassie looked up and screamed. Glen Quagmire was hovering over her head. She stood up hurriedly, clutching Stewie close to her heart (so close that the tot could hear the girl's heartbeat).

"Aren't you -?"

"Bye!"

Cassie began to walk away at a brisk clip, all the while holding Stewie to her as if she feared for his life.

_Well, she has good reason to fear for my life, _Stewie thought. _But she doesn't know that he won't touch me…_

Much to Cassie's chagrin, the car began to drive up to her.

"How old are you, then?" Quagmire asked when he rolled down the window.

Cassie's eyes narrowed to slits. "Not old enough to sleep with you!"

And she continued on, holding Stewie in a death grip. Stewie felt his foot fall asleep in Cassie's grip.

"Are you sure you can't outrun him?" Stewie asked. "I want to feel my leg again."

"Sorry," Cassie replied, loosening her grip on the child. Even at Cassie's near run, Quagmire was able to keep up with her.

"What do you want, pimp!" Cassie yelled as soon as the window rolled down.

Quagmire opened his mouth to say something, but paused. "Did you just call me a pimp…?"  
"Yeah!" Cassie shrieked. "Leave me alone, you pervert!"

"Are you a single mother?"

"No! This isn't mine!"

"Quite obviously," Stewie added under his breath.

Quagmire thought for a second. "You seem to be… a bit angered."

"No," Cassie replied sardonically. "Really?"

"Maybe… maybe I can help you with that… if you just came with me…"

Cassie bit her lip, summoned the rest of her rage, and bitch-slapped Quagmire with all the force she could muster.

"Leave me alone!" Cassie yelled again before running away. Stewie noticed how fast the scenery was flying by his eyes, and thought to inquire about it.

"I thought you said –" Stewie began.

"Shut the hell up," Cassie managed to peter out in a half-hearted voice. "Just… just be quiet for a few minutes, okay, Stewie…?"

Stewie looked behind him. Quagmire had driven away, much to his delight.

"I know you told me to shut up, but… he's gone now…"

Cassie turned around slowly. Quagmire was gone. She turned back to Stewie, a tear catching in her eyelashes. She was hurt for reasons Stewie didn't quite understand, but knew perfectly well.

"Sorry… about that… it's just… oh, forget it," Cassie finally spat. "Let's just get you home."

"Good idea…" Stewie finally answered. They had been on the road for about twenty minutes, a good five of which had been spent running.

Cassie said nothing for five minutes. She looked to the horizon, where the sun was beating down on both of them. Stewie looked up at Cassandra, solemn-faced and pale as snow.

The sooner they got away from this street, the better.

-

"Where on earth could he have gone?" Brian thought aloud, pacing. Lois had freaked out, Peter had accidentally thought that Chris was missing (and when Chris came home, Peter almost called off the Amber Alert – thank God Meg knew the difference between Chris and Stewie), Meg had already gone off to search the side streets with Chris, and Brian had been pacing back and forth for an hour and a half.

"Maybe he ran away, like that time he left the note about the button…" Brian pondered. He quickly debunked the theory. "He likes the swings too much to have run away from the PARK, of all places… what if he was kidnapped or something…? But who'd want to kidnap that hellion…?"

Brian thought back to earlier in the day, when Stewie had been babbling on about some raven-haired goddess of some sort.

"Peter," Brian asked the fat man, who was currently looking at his hands. "Do you think that maybe Stewie ran after that chocolate selling girl?"

Peter ignored Brian looked up to the television, which was showing a rerun of Seinfeld.

"He lives in a bubble!"

"Boy…"

The laugh track started. Brian sighed, but Peter got an idea.

"Maybe Stewie went somewhere else to live or something!" Peter cried. "It makes perfect sense!"

"Why the hell would THAT make sense?" Brian asked.

"Because! I mean, what if he was at the park and didn't realize that he didn't leave with Lois, but with someone else?" Peter wondered.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Stewie isn't THAT inattentive – wait. What if he left with that chocolate selling girl?"

"To the Peter-cycle!" Peter yelled. "We'll go door to door!"  
Brian sighed. "Oh Lord… I'll stay here with Lois…"

Brian waited for a crazed voice to say, "SURE you'll stay with Lois… perverted dog…" But it never came. Brian began to think that maybe he was beginning to miss Stewie.

"SURE you'll stay here with Lois…" Peter began to say.

Brian blanched. What if Stewie resurrected the Peter robot, causing misdirected panic?

"…Dogs can't do much on an investigation anyway!" Peter finished.

Brian closed his eyes. "You know what? You wouldn't do much on an investigation either…"

The doorbell rang. A harried Lois ran to the door.

"Wow, I didn't know that she could run that fast," Peter noted dully.

Lois threw the door open.

"Stewie -!" Lois raised an eyebrow. "Quagmire? What are you doing here?"

"I found Stewie, I think…" Quagmire began before Meg and Chris pushed Quagmire out of the way, ran into the house, and slammed the door in the now disoriented Quagmire's face.

"Meg? Chris?" Lois raised her other eyebrow.

"We can't find Stewie," Meg sighed.

Peter grinned widely and hugged Meg happily. "You came home! You came home! I knew that you would!"

"Dad, Stewie's gone missing," Meg corrected him.

"Oh yeah," Peter remembered, letting go of Meg and putting her down. Brian sighed and placed his head in his hands.

"Where on earth is he?" Brian asked again.

"Well, uh, maybe he ran away," Chris offered. "You know, got on a Greyhound and ran away, fearing his impending… uh… is Stewie getting married?"

Lois ignored him. "What are we going to do, though? I mean, Stewie can't survive for long on the streets! He'll starve!"  
"He'll get dehydrated…!" Meg shuttered.

"He'll crap in his pants!" Peter gasped.

The door swung open, a dazed and very confused Quagmire standing behind it.

"Quagmire?" Brian said in shock. "When did you get here?"

"Quagmire!" Peter began. "I knew you'd -!"

"_Stewie_ is missing," Meg corrected her father for the third time.

"I know where Stewie is," Quagmire finally said. "He's with a teenager about four miles from here."

-

Three miles, actually. In the time it took Quagmire to get his message across to the Griffins, Cassie and Stewie had only a long uphill slog to go through to get to the Griffin's house. Cassie had gained her color back, and was talking again. Stewie was still a bit shaken by how unnerved she was, but just accepted it as hormones or something even weirder (like she'd never been hit on before and, being ultra-feminist-movement, felt violated, or that there was a restraining order on Quagmire by Samantha).

"We only have about thirty-nine minutes to go," Cassie told Stewie.

"I don't want to know how bad it is back home," Stewie admitted.

"Why?"

"Because, when I get home, it'll probably be same old same old: I'll start laughing, and Lois'll think I'm constipated, and the stupid whore will try and change me, and then Peter will ask who the baby is, and Meg will be crying about how no boys ever call her, and Chris… oh, God knows what he'd be doing around now…"

Cassie paused. "If that's true, why'd they put out an Amber Alert?"

"No idea," Stewie confessed. "And I really don't care."

A car drove by Cassie and Stewie. Stewie almost thought nothing of it before realizing that he had most definitely seen that car before.

"Was that a red car?" Stewie asked.

"Yeah," Cassie responded. "Why?"

"Run like hell!"

Cassie ran, and as she did a sliver of color drained from her face. "That wasn't…"

"No it wasn't _that_! Just run!" Stewie yelled.

Cassie covered about a half a mile before she gave out and sat down on the cold cement.

"Is that all you can do?" Stewie asked in a stupefied voice.

"No, I also play soccer," Cassie snapped back in a sarcastic tone.

The red car had turned around and, because Cassie stopped, had caught up with them. Emerging from the car was a redhead (Lois), a fat guy (Peter), a fat blonde kid (Chris), a brunette donning a pink sock hat (Meg), a white dog sipping a martini (Brian), and Quagmire, much to Cassie's surprise.

"We've been caught," Stewie sighed. "Damn."

"THAT'S your family?" Cassie nearly crapped her pants. "That's who I sold the chocolate to this morning! THIS is your family?"

"Well…"

"Then you knew me! Hell, I can't believe I didn't recognize you!" Cassie continued.

"Heh. About that…"

"You followed me home on purpose, didn't you?"

"Actually…"

"This is like The Exorcist!"

"Okay, NOW we've gone too far," Stewie muttered.

Lois picked up Stewie, nearly in tears. She turned to Cassie. "Why did you do this?"

"I followed her home," Stewie clarified.

Brian nearly barfed in shock. "You stupid bastard!"

"What?" Chris asked, lost already.

"Stewie followed me home… we tried to call the hotline, but it was clogged with calls," Cassie lied. "Stewie told us your address and -!"

"We?" Peter asked. "You mean you and Stewie?"

"No, I mean my mother and I," Cassie grunted. "I was taking the baby home to you."

"I think you were really going to use it in a pagan ritual dictated by the laws of your Benedictine cult religion!" Peter yelled.

Cassie rolled her eyes. "There are no cults on Spooner Street."

"How do you know?" Lois asked.

"Didn't I see you earlier today?" Brian murmured. Suddenly it hit him full force.

"Is that the raven-haired goddess that you were babbling on about for half the day, Stewie?" Brian asked innocently. Cassie's jaw dropped.

"WHAT!"

"The dog talks?" Peter mused.

"Of course the dog talks, you didn't know that?" Quagmire said skeptically.

"Raven-haired… what the hell?" Cassie repeated.

"You stupid bastard!" Brian yelled at Stewie again.

"So this was all because of your bawdy crush!" Cassie screamed.

"You got the whole town worried for no reason!" Brian screeched.

"What on earth were you thinking?"

"Were you even thinking?"

"Or were you too blinded by the light?"

"The light of the fires in hell?"

"So… you didn't kidnap Stewie?" Lois interjected.

Brian and Cassie looked up sheepishly and realized that they had been chewing out an infant. While Brian didn't care, because he knew that the Griffins, for the most part, didn't pay attention to anything unless it came in a beer can or as a sex toy, Cassie felt very embarrassed and her face turned red.

"No, I didn't kidnap him," Cassie responded in a calm tone.

Lois looked blank, but then smiled. "Oh, okay. You must come over to our home, though… imagine trying to walk a baby home…"

Cassie's eyes widened. "So, you aren't mad at me AT ALL?"

"Of course not!" Peter responded. "It's a Family Guy story! Everything turns out good in the end!"

"You must stay for dinner!" Lois exclaimed, clapping together her hands in delight. This considerably restricted Stewie's body movement.

"Damn wench… get OFF me!"

"You look halfway normal," Meg noted, the first words she'd spoken to Cassie. "What's your name?"

"Cassie," Cassie said. "Cassie Yvonne…"

"I'm thinking of a word," Chris interrupted Cassie when she was about to get to her last name. "And it's not kitty. What is it?"

"What?" Cassie murmured.

"You look a lot smarter than his lot," Brian interjected. "I'm Brian, the family dog and refined gentleman-like -!"

"If you're so refined," Stewie countered, "why'd you direct a porno film?"

"I'm Meg," Meg said to Cassie, directing her away from Brian and Stewie. "Your hair is very beautiful, I must say… what shampoo do you use?"

Quagmire smirked.

"Have you ever been -?"

Cassie socked him. "Remember Samantha's restraining order!"

-

"I'm thinking of a word. And it's not -?"

"It's kitty."

"Oh my God, you're psychic!"

Chris ran into a wall, and Cassie sighed. Every six seconds, Chris had asked Cassie what the word he was thinking of was. It was still amusing to Stewie, who delighted in watching Chris hurt himself on the same wall every six seconds, but Cassie found Chris a bit too stupid for his own good.

Brian was reading The Phantom of the Opera, Meg had been helping Lois in the kitchen and talking to Cassie at different intervals, Quagmire was no where to be seen (at least, to everyone's knowledge – he appeared at the most random of times), Peter was watching a rerun of Friends (The One Where Ross Gets Divorced), Chris was playing the insipid word game with Cassie, Lois was cooking (and strenuously objected to Cassie helping; as Lois put it, Cassie was a guest), and Stewie was attempting to show Cassie his family's video memoirs, which was an interesting idea in itself.

"What's this?" Cassie asked as Stewie put the tape into the VCR, turning off Friends.

"Hey!" Peter cried. "That's the one where Monica cleans the kitchen!"

"Isn't that EVERY episode?" Brian observed, not looking up from the Gaston Leroux novel.

"These are the family memoirs… hah, these should be interesting… I haven't seen them in a while," Stewie admitted before plopping down on the couch beside the armrest. Meg sat down next to Stewie, and Cassie sat beside Meg. Lois came in and sat next to Peter, and Chris sat next to her. Brian sat in the middle of them all… and the tape started.

"Peter, what did you promise me last night?"

"That I wouldn't drink at the stag party."

"What did you do?"

"Drank at the stag pa – Woah! I almost walked right into that one…"

"This looks awfully familiar," Cassie noted. "Like something out of someone's collective consciousness being broadcast on a television network… like a much beloved yet cancelled animated show…"

"You aren't the only one who thinks that the case," Brian noted dryly.

Meg cocked her head. "Do you think that we should end this story now?"

"No, let's shove in one more pop-culture reference!" Chris begged.

"But we didn't even get to dinner," Lois complained.

"Look, let's end the story first, and THEN we'll eat dinner and biscuits," Brian offered.

"No biscuits," Stewie countered.

"All right, no biscuits, but let's end this anyway!" Brian offered loudly.

"Right!" the entire group said, before someone came into the room.

"Woah. I've never seen so many cheerleaders in one place!" Quagmire marveled.

"Oh, for God's sake," Stewie moaned. "Get on with it already!"  
At that moment, the author suffered a near-fatal heart attack, rendering the story finished.

The End

A/N: "The author's not quite dead, sir!"

Yes, the last segment of this story was there for no reason, but I felt – hey, there was enough plot, and we needed a truly Family Guy-esque part where nothing of relevance happens for about five minutes. And, yes, Chris did get his pop-culture reference (or three) and I finally finished this thing. And, as I look at the page counter, I realize that it's about twenty pages long! Holy crip! I'll stop boring you and give you the disclaimers.

A/N 2: Oh, sorry, I had to add this – for a freshman effort, was this a good Family Guy story? Or did it suck?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Family Guy or any of the other cultural references stuck in here at random intervals.


End file.
